The Final Destination of a Vixen

DISCLAIMER: Contains utter madness and absurdity, cartoonish and gore.

This is a wonderful story about love an friendship... or maybe not. Maybe you shouldn't be reading this. It's not worth your time, you could be writing your master thesis, cleaning your house, raising your kids... Well do what ever you want, but don't say afterwards, you haven't been warned.

— the author

People at on the streets just stopped and stared, when Rachel crossed the street. They were all so mesmerized by the grace of her walk, that they all forgot to cross the street with her. They just stood there, mouths open, their eyes wandering up and down her unbelievable figure, her long legs in tight jeans, her tiny feet in high heeled sneakers, and massive melon sized breasts in a white tank top so outstretched around her breasts, her dark areolas shone thru. Her thick black hair was gently swaying in the breeze, just like in a shampoo commercial, as she walked in slow motion over the zebra crossing. Men and boys on both sides of the streets had nothing on their minds but those swinging curves. Some had the reflex to point their phones at her, to take a picture, but most had already lost their brains in their pants, while jealous girlfriends and wife's rammed their elbows into their rips as hard as they could. The "tock" of each of her steps echoed in the men's empty heads, her seductive look and long eyelashes slowly turning away from them, as she tried to suppress a laugh. Her massive heavy chest bounced, her slender tanned arms with the golden bracelets glistened in the midday sun, when a sudden deafening hoooooooooonk followed by loud metallic thud woke them all up at once. Startled they all looked around like a bunch of disoriented tourists, trying to figure out how the beautiful girl and the other side of the street had been so quickly replaced by a huge wall bearing the word "Orinoco".

It took Officer Brown only 5 minutes to arrive at the scene. The Orinoco truck, a heavy road tanker was standing in the middle of the crossroads, the drivers cabin open and empty. People were running around in shock, others had just come to get a glimpse at something fascinatingly gruesome. Office Brown got of his motorcycle and approached the massive tractor unit with quick but confident steps, spreading an aura of authority and safety around him. He told bystanders to make way, to call an ambulance, to clear the streets. He called for back up over the radio and finally came to a halt in front of a radiator grille as big as an entry gate of a Victorian mansion. Sticking on it like a dead wasp on a windshield, was Rachel. The impact had been so violent, that most of her body had been pushed into the railing, where the coroner would probably have to scrape her out with a butter knife or something like that. Her face was spread out like a pancake on that grille, her eyes widened in surprise. The only intact thing where her gigantic tits, that hung down from the front of the tractor unit like a proud radiator mascot. Officer Brown let out a whistle, as he saw those gigantic tits hanging there completely unharmed, while the whole backside of the girl had probably been pressed through the grid like minced meat though a meat grinder. "Holy Moly." He thought while poking one of those heavy hangers with his pen. Then he noticed the truck driver next to him. "Guess this time you'll have to go through the truck wash twice." The truck driver nodded slightly, his eyes glued to those tits. "I'll need to ask you a few questions now." Officer Brown said in a stern tone tapping his pen against his notepad.

A half an hour later he was done with the truck driver. The truck had been moved out of the way, and the traffic started flowing again. The crowd who had been taken pictures or poked those firm massive tits on the radiator grille were mostly gone. The coroner had arrived with a few technicians, that started to unscrew the grille. "Erm, Officer, one more thing." Said the truck driver while watching the men slowly removing the grille from his truck. "Would you mind if I keep ... those on the truck?" Officer Brown looked at the driver puzzled. Then he looked at the grille, and the jiggling breasts and nodded. "Guess so, but I'd need these first for identification. After that, you can have them and your grille back." The driver smiled like a boy under the Christmas tree. "Thank you, Officer!" In his imagination he could already see the envious looks of other drivers, when he would pull into the gas station with those beauties on the front. He would cross every state with these puppies and he would be the talk of the town. "But I'd recommend you get a new grille." Officer Brown interrupted his dreams. "Maybe you can get those beauties stuffed by a taxidermist and hang that pair on your rear-view mirror instead of those old plush dices you got there." The driver smiled. "You know what, that's a great idea. Thanks officer." But Officer Brown was already busy with his paper work. "Pick'em up tomorrow at the precinct." Was all he said.

The identification of the girl as Rachel A. Riley had been no problem. The parents heard about the accident in the news and when they saw the helicopter footage, showing that gigantic truck on the crossing, with all the cars and people around it, Martha, Rachels mother had suddenly pointed at 2 white globes sticking on the trucks front and cried out "Oh god, Herman, it's Rachel." No need to say Rachels parents weren't happy to see their daughter in such sorry state, squeezed though a grid like hamburger meat. While Martha talked to the coroner Herman couldn't stop patting the huge white orbs of his daughter, like he was trying to say, it's gonna be alright honey, daddy is with you. And he was right about it. See, in this world I'm telling you about, you don't die from an accident like this. The technology in this world is advanced enough to extract the very essence of life from your body, even if its beaten into a pulp, and save it. The only thing, Martha and Herman needed to do now, was having another baby and implant the life essence of Rachel into it. Of course, they would have to go through the whole "raising a kid from the ground up"-ordeal again, but - Rachel would be back. The only problem here was, that Martha was way passed her fertile years, and Herman hadn't had an erection since... well actually since he started to pat those breasts on the coroners table, but no way he would be able to get it up with his wife again to make another baby, even if she could have one. So this whole deus-ex-machina-science-thing is just so irrelevant for them, as it is for this story. I just put it in there, so you don't start crying about somebody dying in this story.

So let just cut to the chase and get to the day, where Martha and Herman were crossing the street, when a very inpatient Orinoco truck driver honked angrily at them. As they looked up to him, they recognized those suffed KKs hanging from the rear view mirror, dangling softly back and forth, those thick perky nipples pointing into opposite directions. It looked like a cows udder was hanging there. The driver pulled down the window and yelled "Get off the fucking road you old bat!" at Martha, letting the motor roar. Herman angrily shook his fist at him. Rachels parents looked at the gigantic double-trophy in the truckers cabin, still glistening wet from the titfuck he had given it at the gasstation a few minutes ago, shrugged in frustration and hurried to the other side of the road. As the truck started moving again, the driver leaned out the window grinned at them. He demonstratively squeezed one of the tits and it let out squeak just like a rubber duck. Martha and Herman looked at each other in disbelieve, but the driver burst into laughs, hit the gas and left the older couple in a cloud of diesel and dust.

The End.